


Angels on the Way to Rebirth

by marquise_angelica



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Demons, Gen, Half-Human, Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28712445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marquise_angelica/pseuds/marquise_angelica
Summary: You're falling into the hell in one clothes, but returning wearing another ones. It's certainly just a trifle on the way to rebirth. But whom, besides of demons, could be implicated in that?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Angels on the Way to Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Ангелы на пути к возрождению](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/741258) by Маркиза Анжелика. 



> This work is a translation of the fanfic of my own.  
> Strongly recommend to listen 'Darkseed - Rain of Revival' while reading.

For the first time in many years the voices different from Mundus' one sounded in his castle. The demons he had gathered in the throne room trembling before the emperor. Mundus ordered them to shut up. Then he tore them apart and mixed them, turned them into energy, and he began to create a woman from it.

She should be like Eva, the chosen one of the traitor Sparda.

Truth be told, Mundus didn't have a very good idea of how humans are made. Despite the many schemes drawn according to the remains of Eva and what was pulled from Vergil's memory, he wasn’t sure everything was done correctly. He hadn't been on Earth for too long. In general, he had never interested in mankind more than as if they were just vials of blood. But now the question has become acute. It's time to know the enemy in person.

A cocoon of flesh disintegrated, and a golden-haired girl with a familiar-hated face and body fell out. It looked like that one he needed. The half-breed certainly cannot tell the difference.

“Trish,” Mundus said. The newborn demon jumped up and bowed. "Your name is Trish. You will bring here Dante, son of the traitor Sparda."  
"Yes, my lord."  
“This is the only thing for which you are brought into this world. Serve me faithfully, and I will grant you a long life in my domain. But if you fail, you will be destroyed."  
“Whatever you say, mighty Mundus,” Trish said.

Her pupils slid to the bridge of her nose and then gently parted to their normal position. Trish briskly felt her new body and was pleased. The realization of oneself, made together by the greatest magic from parts of other demons and their memories, proceeded quickly and without side effects. Indeed, the power of Mundus is great. Amazing and stupid, how the pathetic half-breed dared challenge him?

"This mission must be fulfilled, for I wish so. Anything you need, you can ask me."

Trish bowed for a few more moments, then straightened up and looked at the warrior off to the side, next to the throne of Mundus. Locked in living metal from head to toe, covered with a violet cloak, he stood motionless. The memory of the demons saved in Trish responded with the name: Nelo Angelo. The soul of Vergil, Dante's brother, the body is armour from the demonic forge. He’s incredibly strong and loyal to Mundus.

The rumors obediently revived in the fading memories.

Nelo Angelo. They say that it wasn’t possible to subdue Vergil completely. So only the soul had to be ripped out of the body. They say that the lord's ritual was so complicated that Vergil's body had to be spared. Otherwise, the soul wouldn't be able to have been held into the armour. They say Vergil’s blood drove many demons insane before the body could be hidden away from everyone…

They're twins, right? It would be useful to have a look at this "Dante" before meeting him in reality.

"Mighty Mundus! Before embarking on my mission, I would like to look our enemy to the face. There is his brother Vergil in your hands. Can I see him with my own eyes? The memories of the demons who became a part of me don't give a complete picture."

Mundus flashed the redness of his ghostly eyes:

"He is in front of you. Nelo Angelo, my dark knight."  
"Forgive me, lord! This one is changed by you, but Dante is different. I need to know what it looks like to rule out any mistakes. Your plan shouldn't be hurt by such a trifle,” she added flatteringly.  
"Good. Your demand is pertinent,” Mundus said after a little pause. “I'll let you see his previous body. But be careful with his blood."  
"What's so special with it?" she asked. She guessed the reason, but did not dare to be confident.  
"You will understand when you meet it. Resist or you will be destroyed. Go."

Trish bowed again and left the throne room. As she walked, she glanced at the guardian in armour. Nelo Angelo stood as flat and motionless as a statue. He doesn't seem to remember anything. He doesn't know who he was before. Well, this is the business of lord Mundus. Trish is just another tool that serves his purpose.

The call sent by the lord led her to a door, behind which a cramped dark room was discovered. There was nothing in it but a body sprawled right on the floor.

Trish tossed yellowish lightning bolts out of her palm, turned them into a light near the ceiling – and shook her head at what she saw. The body in front of her looked nasty, even by demon standards. The thin bluish-gray skin was strewn with old bruises almost black in color and something that looked like bites. The remnant of a blue coat was still on his left arm and shoulders. There was a ripped piece of scarf on the neck. The hair was soaked through with blood and sweat, stuck together and adhered to the forehead and the temples. The air noisily, with effort penetrated into his throat through parted lips. That was the only sign that he was still alive.

What a pitiful sight. Will the second one be just as easy to defeat?

Oh no, it wasn't easy. But now it seems so simple...

“This is one who challenged the mighty Mundus,” Trish drawled. She sat down on her knees, brushed hair from his closed eyes. Involuntarily, she brought her wet fingers to her face – and froze, remembering the warning.

The room already has a strangely attractive smell. It feels coppery, warm. It is the smell of blood. But it is thicker, brighter than the regular blood smells. How much more delicious it tastes? Seems to be apparently incomparable.

Isn't it worth to exchange the life in a new powerful body for this?

"How long have you been here?" she asked, wiping her hand on the floor. Only then she noticed she was naked. Demons usually didn't care, but people and even demihumans, judging by this body near her, wear clothes on themselves.

Vergil, of course, did not answer.

“And we seem to be alike,” she said aloud again for some reason. "Only you are a half-breed. Is Dante the same? He'll probably like me. They said that the half-demon would be lured to hell by his mother. I am his mother now. I am your mother. I need to appear human. Like her."

Trish took a deep inhale. Vergil's breath, quick and echoing in the cramped vaulted room, echoed like an answer. She didn't want more. That was quite enough to streamline her newborn thoughts without bending her back in front of the master.

"Do you think your brother will follow me? Would you follow?"

Again, there was no movement in response, not counting the weak elevations of the chest.

Trish reached out and scraped the oily blackish smudge off his cheek. The red streak left on the skin from her nail slowly disappeared under her gaze.

"You, half-breeds, who are you more like? Mother or father? What was she like? Weak or tough? To ask or to demand? What do I need to be for Dante to believe me?"

Silence, broken only by breathing.

Of course, he doesn't have to answer her. But hearing her own voice was... helpful. The purpose of her very existence has become a little clearer. Although, to talk about the most important things like this, sitting next to an exhausted body right on the floor…

"How absurdly it’s going. But I'll come back, probably."

Trish got up from the floor and left the room. She returned to Mundus and bowed before him:

"I need to see the human world once before facing the enemy. This "Dante" won't believe me if I don't act like people. I also need to get dressed. People wear clothes. And yet I need to gain strength."  
“You are a fast learner, my creation. So be it," answered Mundus. "Go there now. But remember: if you decide to betray me I will get to you anywhere!"

Trish agreed silently. Yes, he will get her, though, and then her fate will be no better than that of that half-blooded, devoid of a soul.

Soon, a landing party of demons with a shard of Yamato at the ready landed in the middle of a city in the orange twilight of the night. Trish walked right behind the leader of the group of medium demons who wielded the fire, invisible to other people's eyes. She stared around at the people who had not realized what was happening yet, who wrapped themselves in jackets and clicked the heels of their boots on the asphalt. Trish did not feel the cold, and her soft naked heels did not cause the slightest knocking as she walked. People seemed to be soft and strange. But they were not very much like her. The clothes hid their bodies.

Someone noticed them, screamed – and the demons rushed to the attack. Scythe, swords and claws began to smash the fragile glasses of the shop windows and grab the late passers-by. And Trish, a dozen paces behind, stopped as if spellbound in the neon light, studying herself in the reflection of the glittering shards.

People are so fragile. They have no thorns, no scales, no fangs. And what did Sparda find in Eva? No strength, no nerve-tickling danger. Maybe the blood was good? Although then children would not have turned out, probably... People do not reproduce like demons, right?

Or maybe it's all about the clothes? Why do people wear them?

Trish glanced around and ducked into a nearby shattered display case full of leather items. She quickly dressed herself, emphasizing the protruding parts of her body on a whim – and remembered her recent interlocutor. Then she stared into the large mirror. Trish brushed her hair over her face, bared her teeth; then, she smiled. She tried on dark glasses. She took it off and bit the bow of glasses.

She wondered if all people are as similar as she and him, Vergil? Or other mortal sacks of blood do not look such a same?

"What's this, a party without a pizza? Well, I don’t play like that! Get away and don't come back without a pizza!" – she suddenly heard.

Trish looked out of the broken window – and saw the already familiar shape of the face and short white hair falling on the temples, long straight nose, full lips curved in a grin. Then she noticed an open red cloak, a chest lined with black belts and long springy legs in boots. The stranger held large-caliber pistols in his hands. And as soon as the wind blew in her direction, she smelled a very special blood, just like in that room with the body.

Dante? From where is he here? No, not like that. How did she get to his city?

Before her eyes Dante fired from two hands almost simultaneously, and the nearest demon scattered a cloud of a stinking smoke. Cheeky character. So, she needs to take it in the same way. To represent the impudence and arrogance.

This is understandable. It's up to the details.

Picking up Yamato's shard from the asphalt, Trish dived back into the store. She looked at the hangers determined with a trained glance what to take away, rushed like a whirlwind to the far wall. And there, in safety, she cut the air apart and got away before Dante noticed her and rushed after. Other demons remained locked in the human world and distracted his attention. They saved her from fate to reveal the plan of Mundus ahead of time. That's nothing special. That's how it should be, isn't it?

The next moment she was already standing in the middle of the bright corridor, clutching an armful of things in her hands. Black and dark blue which looked as black in the twilight of the night. As did her corset and pants, which turned out to be a little lighter than expected.

Trish chuckled. But they really are alike, these two half-breeds. The captured one will do well with her to rehearse the greeting that will convince Dante to go with her. If he survives the meeting, of course. However, she did not take red clothes, but there's nothing scary. The main thing is about the size.

There's the last thing remaining.

"Lord Mundus! I am asking for your help again. Give me a demon for my disposal to help... to prepare for the visit,” she said, bowing to her waist as she habitually.  
"I know what you are talking about. Your idea is stupid and useless. How will an unrequited body help you?"  
“I dare not speak to you as I did to him, my lord. I..."  
"What?! Get out of my sight!" rumbled Mundus. "My faithful knight, trace after her!"  
"Thank you, my lord!", Trish hastily made another bow and quickly went away, as recommended, until the lord decided to dispel her instead of borrowing a servant.

Heavy footsteps rumbled behind her.

Accompanied by Nelo Angelo, Trish reached the room where Vergil continued his strange existence. There, next to him, lied the things she had brought from the human world.

Well, whether the mighty lord likes it or not, she knows better what she is doing.

Trish sat down next to the body and quickly freed it from the remnants of the once-good clothes. Imbued with demonic scattered energy, they were pleasantly tight in the fingers. The new fabriс will become the same, if the half-breed would live up to those days, of course. His end is near.

Well, at least he will talk to the "mother" before the end. So a pity he can't see it. From his reaction it would be clear what to expect from Dante. But so she has to think out yourself. Although, that is better than nothing.

“Well, hold him straight,” she told Nelo Angelo.

The knight took the unconscious body into an embrace and raised it so much so his feet hung a couple of palms above the floor. Trish nodded, sat down on her knees and fished pants out of a pile of the clothes.  
It turned out to be many times more difficult to pull them on someone else than on oneself. Trish cursed herself innumerable number of times for choosing that as she made the layered black skin lie down as it should. Pulling it on she finally put the belt into the loops and snapped the buckle heartily. Next she came to the shoes. It turned out to be much easier to put on him.

But she had to free the body from the hands of Nelo Angelo to put on the vest.

Trish sat Vergil down on the floor, let the body fall on her chest and gently as possible (who knows, what if the pain will give an incentive to wake up?) brought one hand into the armhole, then the other. Then Trish turned him back out of her. She pulled the zipper up and…

The clasp caught the skin on the throat, then scratched it. Trish brushed the blood from the instantly healed wound, involuntarily licked her fingers – and almost suffocated. Only the deaf high collar of Vergil’s vest stopped her from immediately biting his throat. With a soft hiss, Trish ran her nose where blood had just oozed, pursed her lips – and stood resolutely.

The body fell like a sack on its back, hitting the back of the head. Breathing lost, but quickly returned to the same rhythm.

How great is the power of the lord Mundus, since he did not want to appropriate such power for himself?

Trish lifted a long coat from the floor, shook it of nonexistent dust, scattering the air that smelled of the blood around her, and hung it on her arm.

"Bring a chair here. No, even two."

Nelo Angelo did not react in any way.

"Oh, well, yes. Okay, let's go together," she corrected herself.

A short walk completely refreshed her mind, and when Trish returned she was able to calmly finish what she started. Finally, she sat Vergil into a chair, buttoned up the rivets of gloves on his wrists, and looked over the result with a tired, satisfied look. After stort thinking she ruffled his hair, doing about the same as Dante's, and sat down opposite.

At first glance, it became a little uncomfortable. Vergil had sat in front of her, leaning his whole back on a chair, let hands on his hips, head bowed, as if he were thinking. And yet there was the power that literally exuded from him even at a distance... The illusion of presence became almost complete.

This time, it was even necessary to make an effort and re-present him without clothes to gain courage.

Trish leaned forward a little, put her hands on her knees.

“I need your help, Dante. Mundus has awakened again... No, not that. Dante, listen. A great evil is approaching... I am not your enemy, believe me... Or better... Mhm... My name is Trish, I need your help... Oh screw that!"

Trish slapped her thighs, coughed into her fist and sighed. She raised her eyes. Vergil sat just as she seated him and seemed to ignore all of her efforts.

Trish snorted.

"At least you would answer something. I'm trying!"

Vergil's left hand twitched, his fingers bent and immediately relaxed. Nails clicked on the armrest. Trish froze. All of the silly jokes flew out of her head at once. If she has awakened him, she will not be good. Mundus will destroy her!

"Do you hear me, or what?"

She waited a second, another one. But the accidental movement did not repeat.

However, Trish stood up and shook him by the shoulders. Vergil's head swinged limply. The eyelids didn't flinch. Looks like it was really a random event. Maybe that's how it should be with him. Who will understand how these semi-mortal bodies function? That’s a perversion, nothing more.

Trish sat back and crossed her legs. However, she especially noted the desire to punch Dante properly at the first meeting.

"Okay, come on from the beginning. Let's start with Sparda..."

***

The next time they met many years later. It happened in the van, the mobile branch office of Devil May Cry. Nero sat at the table, listlessly picking at the already finished prosthesis, and Vergil was across the table from him, propping his head with his hand with obvious awkwardness. His whole being demonstrated how unfamiliar and new the human world is to him. His other hand was hanging loosely on the knee. A familiar gesture for Trish.

He's half-breed, but he's so... lost, it's really strange. Even she, Trish, a full-blood demon, has become to feel more comfortable among people over the years. Otherwise, maybe he just wonders how he survived after everything that happened to him. If so, she even shares this feeling.

At the same time Vergil vaguely delighted her with his appearance. Unlike Dante, who constantly spoils his cloaks and shirts, Vergil preserved clothes she gave to him almost perfectly. And she was not mistaken in her almost random choice. Those clothes really suit him very much.

Finally, he noticed her intent, long gaze. And before he asked what she wanted, Trish was ahead of the curve:

"Did you see something interesting?"  
"Did Mundus create you?"

According to the certainty of his tone, it wasn't even a question.

That was what the strength in his blood meant, then. And this is what his direct gaze really is. Trish felt uncomfortable. It seemed like from one wrong word she would be sent to hell by a swing of Yamato. Even Dante will not have time to intervene. Well, he really wouldn't! He is more interested in magazines with curvy young ladies.

"Mighty Mundus created all the demons. I'm not an exception. You know that I am a demon, I have no doubt about that. But I am on your side now", answered Trish.

He nodded almost imperceptibly without a smile.

"I noticed that. And I'll say that just once: stay away from me with this face."

Trish tilted her head in agreement. But a memory flashed into her mind without permission. It was about how one should imagine a half-demon so as not to be afraid of him.

And it cost her enormous efforts to restrain her laughter.


End file.
